


play me like a symphony

by thisissirius



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Gardens & Gardening, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-23 01:00:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2528168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisissirius/pseuds/thisissirius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>if jonny's rooftop garden could talk, it would tell a hundred stories. well. five.</p><p>OR jonny's rooftop garden: the exterior setting of a romantic (comedy) drama</p>
            </blockquote>





	play me like a symphony

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to the-northface for cheerleading this ALL THE WAY THROUGH
> 
> also to everyone who decided this would be the perfect garden:
> 
>  
> 
> unbetad because that's how i roll

**.one**

When Jonny moves into his new condo, Patrick is somehow roped into helping. 

He’s pretty sure his, "No," was as emphatic as he could make it, but Jonny’s always heard _no_ as _hell yeah, man, let me know when I can help!_ Patrick would do something about it, but he gets a free meal, beer and an awesome view out of it, so he’s not going to complain too hard. 

\--- 

“You’re the worst,” he complains, stretching and wincing when his back cracks. He’s pretty sure he shouldn’t be getting these aches and pains when he’s supposed to be fit and ready for the season. 

“Stop complaining." Jonny rolls his eyes, his usual mode of communication when talking to Patrick, which fuck him. "Thai okay?”

Patrick nods, splaying dramatically across Jonny’s new island, relishing the cool counter against his cheek. “You’re a terrible excuse for a friend, man.”

Jonny’s bent over, rummaging around in one of the boxes which is actually labelled ‘take out menus, kitchen paper shit, and other stuff,’ which is so typically Jonny that Patrick finds himself smiling endearingly. God, he can’t believe he’s actually in to this loser. “Whatever, you love me.”

That’s painfully close to the truth, so Patrick grumbles something and deliberately doesn’t move. “I’m broken. You’re going to have to carry me into the living room.”

“I thought we could eat on the roof,” Jonny says, flushing a little. 

Which, yeah, okay, the roof is the reason Jonny bought the fucking condo, so _of course_ he’d want to eat up there. “It’s like, minus nine hundred degrees, dude.”

Except Jonny is from Winnipeg, so eating out in the freezing cold is super normal for him. “Fine. We’ll-”

“The roof is fine,” Patrick interrupts, finally shifting back so that he can look Jonny in the eye. “I’d hate for all of my hard work to go to waste.”

The worst part of the move had been taking all of Jonny’s gardening shit up to the roof and watching him be completely ridiculous about making sure everything was in the right place. Patrick doesn’t even know when this whole homegrown vegetables thing that he’s got going on started, but he makes delicious food when they have the time to do it, so Patrick is more than willing to let it go. 

What he’s not is the paper that he can see poking out of the box. Jonny’s giving him a wide smile as he dials the Thai place, and Patrick’s trying not to look, his attention on the diagram instead. He's across the floor and tugging it out of the box before he’s really thought about it. 

Jonny immediately colours and reaches out to snatch it away from him, but Patrick darts out of reach. “Give it back!”

Patrick takes advantage of Jonny’s momentary distraction in actually placing their order, and analyses the diagram. “You haven’t even moved in, and you’re already building a rooftop garden?!”

This is the perfect opportunity for mocking, and Patrick kinda wants to ring Sharpy immediately and let him know, but he’s not actually a dick. He also likes Jonny more than Sharpy (if, and only if, he’s ever pressed for an answer and he’s being like, held at gunpoint or whatever), so he just grins. 

Jonny’s blushing again, looking down at his feet with a glare as he finishes up on the phone. When he eventually holds out his hand, Patrick actually gives him the ccrude drawing. “I remember the garden from Hoss, and I just-”

He trails off, and Patrick realises he actually _cares_ and feels like a tool. “Hey, it’s an awesome idea. That’s why you had me carry those fucking chairs up there, eh?”

Nodding, Jonny looks slightly mollified, but Patrick can’t have him thinking that this is a terrible idea, so he leans over and punches him in the arm. 

“I’m serious. I have to be the first one over here when it’s done, though, and if I don’t like it, you gotta change it.”

Jonny snorts. “I’ll have to make sure it meets your ridiculously absurd expectations then, won’t I?”

“My expectations aren’t absurd,” Patrick complains, but he’s grinning like an idiot.

\--- 

**two.**

“I didn’t even know Chicago _had_ a farmer’s market,” Patrick whines, eyeing up the crowd of people in front of him. Jonny’s in there somewhere, and he’s not looking forward to trying to find him. 

Sharpy laughs, loud and clear, on the other end of the phone. “You chose to go.”

He absolutely did not. “He told me we were going shopping! You know me, man, I thought we were going to the health food store.”

“This is Jonny’s version of health food,” Sharpy reminds him. He’s surprisingly more chill about Jonny’s foray into gardening, and Patrick doesn’t understand what the fuck is going on with his teammates. It’s like everyone has lost their mind. 

“You’re all fucking crazy,” Patrick says, and hangs up. He doesn’t have to deal with this. 

Thankfully it isn’t too difficult to find Jonny. He’s feeling up vegetables of all shapes and sizes, and there are so many dick jokes that Patrick wants to make, but he refrains. Jonny should be fucking proud of him. 

“Oh hey, Patrick,” Jonny says, grinning widely. “What do you think?”

He’s pointing at some oversized - in Patrick’s opinion - onions, and what the fuck, since when did Jonny care about onions so much?

“Are you almost done?” Patrick asks instead, knowing that he’s whining but unable to stop himself. “I don’t care what size onions you buy here, man, yours are like, superior in every way.”

The lady at the bench gets a pinched look on her face, but Jonny’s grin is as blinding as it is hilarious. “Whatever, I’ll just get these.”

He shoves them into his basket and then they’re _thankfully_ leaving, bags of fucking vegetables in tow. 

“Why don’t you just buy seeds and shit? Why are you buying _other people’s_ vegetables?” Patrick reaches for the radio, and snorts when Jonny immediately bats his hand away.

“Stop fucking with the radio,” Jonny complains, and flips the signal. “Eating other people’s stuff helps you figure out your own.”

Patrick doesn’t see how that works. Everything he buys from the store all tastes the same, he doesn’t know what the fuck Jonny’s talking about, but he guesses that’s why Jonny’s the one growing this shit, and he’s the one eating it. “If you say so.”

When they get back to Jonny’s condo - and Patrick’s really not going to analyse why he likes spending so much time there - Jonny puts his shit away, and Patrick immediately goes up onto the roof. It’s his favorite place in the world to go now that Jonny’s actually finished it. It’s all wooden decking with plush, modern seating. Jonny - or someone he hired - made some awesome garden magic, so that it feels like Patrick’s garden back in Buffalo at his parent’s house, even though he’s like, eighty stories up or something. 

He’s relaxing back into one of the plush white couches lining the decking when Jonny comes out, two beers in hand. “Figured this is where’d you be.”

It’s not the warmest of evenings, but Patrick has a thing about this rooftop, whatever. “I can’t help that your contractor did a good job.”

Jonny scowls at the reminder that he didn’t put every piece of wood and flower in himself, but as much as he would love to do everything, Patrick constantly has to remind him that he does actually have a day job that isn’t selling vegetables and being a part-time handyman. “It was my plan.”

Patrick rolls his eyes and kicks his legs up onto a footstool. “Either way, it’s like my favourite place in the world.”

Jonny tries to smother the huge smile on his face, but there’s enough of it left that Patrick coughs to cover his own flush. Patrick’s not ashamed about his complete hardon for Jonny’s rooftop, but he is kinda trying to hide the crush he has on the owner of said garden. “Your favourite place belongs to me.”

Patrick blurts out, “That’s cause you’re here, man,” before he can stop himself. Jonny stares back at him, eyes wide and mouth half-open. It’s utterly unattractive, but Patrick still kinda thinks he’s hot. Jesus. “So yeah.”

They sit there, grinning at each other like idiots, but what the fuck ever, Patrick’s allowed to indulge in his little crush, especially when Jonny’s staring at him like maybe Patrick’s not alone in this.

\--- 

**three.**

Jonny has this huge ginger Tom that prowls around his garden looking important. Patrick thinks if he’d been neutered, he probably wouldn’t be such a dickbag, but Jonny tried once and almost lost an eye, so that was that. 

The cat hates Jonny, though, which doesn’t make sense; Patrick’s mom taught him years ago that you shouldn’t bite the hand that feeds you, but maybe cat moms aren’t so big on that. Jonny tries to like, buy his love anyway, giving him food and treats and shit, but it still doesn’t work. It just means the cat is now fat _and_ an asshole. 

Even though the cat’s the devil reincarnated and should be called Damian - Patrick is really big on symbolism, okay - Jonny calls him Champ, which makes zero sense to Patrick. 

“He’s fat and a douchecanoe, and you’re calling him _Champ_?” He deliberately doesn’t mention that Jonny’s only just getting around to naming said cat a hundred years after buying him. 

It’s apparently none of his business considering the withering look Jonny gives him as he starts pulling out fucking carrots from his vegetable patch. Patrick’s figured out the correlation now between Jonny starting to grow vegetables and his concussion, and Patrick really wants to take one of the huge marrows Jonny's trying to grow and smack Joe Thornton in the face with it. 

“I thought he might like me better,” Jonny admits. 

It makes weird sense in Jonny logic, and Patrick is totally not surprised. Jonny’s changed the couches in the garden a million times, but they’re finally these super cool benches that slope inwards, so Patrick never ever wants to get up ever again. He relaxes back, eyeing the way Champ is prowling the edge of the roof, eyeing Patrick like he wants to claw his eyes out or something. 

“He’s clearly deranged,” Patrick says, frowning as Champ licks his paws, like he’s got all the fucking time in the world. 

Jonny snorts. “ _He’s_ deranged?”

Patrick sticks up his middle finger, just as Champ leaps from the wall into Patrick’s lap. Patrick keeps very still. He and Champ have always had a mutual distance-keeping kind of relationship. This is the first time he’s made any outward sign of any affection or dislike, and Patrick really hopes he’s not going to claw his dick. After pawing his leg and leaving huge gouge marks that Patrick’s probably going to need the emergency room for, Champ curls up and tucks his head behind his tail. “Uh-”

Jonny is looking at him, eyes wide, and just a little hint of jealousy on his face. “What the fuck did you do?”

“Nothing!” Patrick snaps, and Champ digs his claws into Patrick’s leg again, voicing his displeasure. “Ow, fuck off, Champ.”

Looking a little mollified by this, Jonny turns back to his carrots. “Whatever, _I’m_ the one who feeds him every day.”

Patrick rolls his eyes. “Except when we’re on the road and your neighbour has to do it.”

“He loves her too,” Jonny says, almost mournfully, and whatever, Patrick can’t believe Jonny is acting jealous of a cat. 

“Don’t worry, I still love you best of all,” Patrick tells him, grinning around his beer bottle.

Jonny doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Patrick eyes the stiffening of his back sceptically, before he says, “I wasn’t jealous of _him_ ,” but it lacks conviction.

Patrick frowns down at Champ, as though he’s suddenly going to look up and explain his owner’s weird behaviour, but not surprisingly, Champ keeps right on sleeping. 

When he gets back to his own place and his mind isn’t taken up with the awesome of Jonny’s garden, he realizes exactly what it was that Jonny was trying to say.

\--- 

**four.**

“Fuck, man, tell me that I’m not imagining this.”

Jonny’s elbows deep in something that smells like shit, but Patrick’s on a mission here. “Um.”

Patrick’s aware that he probably looks a little hysterical, but he kinda maybe wants to make out with Jonny, and if there’s even a remote chance that Jonny wants to do the same, well then, he’s totally not going to give up until they’ve done so. 

“I’m kinda in the middle of planting stuff, Pat, can whatever freak out you’re having wait?”

Jonny sounds uninterested to hear about said freak out, so Patrick scowls. “Can you step away from that shit? You kinda reek, dude.”

Rolling his eyes, Jonny actually stands up and Patrick almost swallows his tongue. He’s wearing jeans that are criminally low on his hips, and a ridiculous wifebeater that’s as covered in shit as his arms are. “Well?”

Patrick’s kinda dumbstruck, because when he came here he had a plan, okay, but now Jonny’s ruining it by being all hot and raw man material, like the ridiculous Canadian stereotype he is, and oh god, if anybody ever finds out Patrick is even thinking this, he’s going to have to throw himself off of Jonny’s rooftop. 

Jonny’s staring at him a little too close for comfort, and Patrick’s aware that he’s fidgeting, and he always says stupid shit when he’s nervous like, “I wanna kiss you.”

There’s a horrible silence where Patrick’s half afraid that Jonny’s going to demand he leave and then go back to burying vegetables in shit to make himself feel better, but before he can make himself say anything, Jonny’s got a - gross, really fucking gross - hand in his hair and is kissing him.

Patrick’s getting what he’s wanted for years and sinks into the kiss, even while he’s aware that this is the grossest thing he’s ever done - but it’s also the actual best thing, and he doesn’t give a shit that he’s going to need at least ten showers to feel better, he’s kissing _Jonny_.

When they pull apart, they’re both grinning like idiots, which is pretty much their default expression these days, but whatever, Patrick’s feeling pretty great. “So.”

“Yeah,” Jonny says, kinda dumbly, but he’s still got an arm around Patrick’s waist and fuck, Patrick loves him a lot. 

They’re interrupted from staring at each other like loons by a crash from the other end of the garden. One of the plant pots is shattered on the floor and Champ is sitting next to it like butter wouldn’t melt. 

“That fucking cat,” Patrick says fondly. 

Jonny sighs. “He’s a champ.”

“So are you,” Patrick says, kinda cheesy. “At kissing.”

They’re clearly both stupid over each other, because that just makes Jonny kiss him again and Patrick’s hardly going to complain about that.

\--- 

**five.**

“These benches aren’t big enough,” Patrick complains.

Jonny curls a hand around the back of Patrick’s neck and drags him in for a kiss. There’s too much tongue and something is digging into Patrick’s hip. “We’ll work it out.”

Patrick opens his mouth to retort, but Jonny’s knee drags up between his thighs. Relishing the friction, Patrick grinds down and his breath hitches. “God.”

The grin on Jonny’s face is dumb and cocky, but Patrick loves him, so whatever. He drags his hips against Jonny’s knee, dick swelling in his sweatpants. He’s trying to kiss Jonny, but their mouths are just sliding together, Patrick letting out little _uh, uh, uh_ noises. 

“Come on, Pat,” Jonny says. 

It’s the _Pat_ that gets to him, and Patrick feels wetness spread between them as he comes, shuddering when Jonny works a hand between them, fingers running up his oversensitized dick. “Stop.”

Jonny doesn’t listen, rubs his thumb over the head and Patrick whimpers, eyes wet as he buries his face in Jonny’s neck. Jonny’s letting out breathy moans against his neck and _he’s getting off on this_ , but everything feels hot and close, and Patrick wants to tell him to stop, but he doesn’t, not really. 

When Jonny comes, he bites down on Patrick’s neck and mercifully pulls his hand away. Aftershocks rock the both of them and they should probably move before they get gross and sticky, but Patrick doesn’t want to. He runs his fingers against the nape of Jonny’s neck, relishing the quiet of the evening and the low lights Jonny’s spread around the rooftop, highlighting the best features of the garden. 

There’s a plaintive meow from the flowerbed and Patrick grins, whispering, “I love you,” into the curve of Jonny’s collarbone. 

The hand on the back of his neck tightens and Jonny echoes his words, kissing his jaw.

**Author's Note:**

> this is champ:
> 
>  
> 
> thank you for reading :))))


End file.
